OK, it's just a little part I had written a while back and forgotten to post. Sorry and enjoy. As for next future parts, they are not written yet and sincerely I do not know when I'll be able to do so. I'm on another story right now and have forgotten my previous ideas about this one. I've been stuck at this point for much too long. Of course, if you have ideas or suggestions, do not hesitate.Thanks and sorry.





****part 4 ****

The whole town was still calm and silent when, a few minutes before dawn, a lonely figure wandered slowly toward a big and old mansion, where no one had been living for years. The night would soon leave, killed by the first light of the day, as the sky was already tainted with red and purple tones toward the east. But Angel was not aware of that deadly fact. His mind, overwhelmed by sorrow and pain, could not think about such trivial things as his own survival. Furthermore, if he could think about it, deeply in his heart was hiding the secret desire to finally give it up, his life, his loneliness, and his duties. The desire to join his childe into death. For more than one hour now, he had walked down the streets of this fateful hellmouth, not knowing where he was going to, just lost in his thoughts and grief. Instinctively, each step had led him closer to the old mansion, the place where he knew his children had lived for more than one year, their former home, his former home. This place would be maybe still filled with the souvenir of William's happy days, of his laughs, of his presence.

But, when he reached the door, a doubt settled in Angel's mind, as he suddenly was aware of the time and the danger it represented for him. He was definitely not sure he wanted to seek refuge in here or anywhere else, for that matter. His mind was blank, dulled by too much pain and grief. Maybe death would help him; maybe it was not so bad, after all. He could not remember one thing he had now to live for. Nothing. In two minutes, everything would be finished. He would be ash, and ashes could not feel anything, could not hurt for the loss of a beloved childe. He would not have to do anything to achieve this goal, to find finally peace and tranquillity. He only had to do nothing, to stay put on this exact place. The sun would do everything for him. And it would be the end.

With these thoughts, Angel had settled in his mind to wait for the sun to reach him. But at this same moment, in the womb he did not know he had, the ghost of a consciousness woke up, panic stricken by some strong feeling of imminent danger and reached out to call desperately for help. "No, Sire, don't give it up, live for us, father, live for both of us, PLEASE!ยป And then, this consciousness, too weak to stay awake one more second, fell asleep, waiting to grow and eager to live. This mental yell shook Angel to the core. The spirit of his dead childe had begged him to go on living, and so, as a last respectful present to his memory, this wish would be granted. He did not know how it had happened, and why, but his childe had spoken to him, and he could not not listen to him. The automatic response arrived just in time: the moment Angel opened the front door of the mansion and ran inside, the sun sent its first deadly arms toward Sunnydale.

The whole night had been exhausting for Angel. It had begun with the battle with the demon he had come here to slay, and then, the mental wound that had drained his strength, the agony and death of his childe, to finish with the brutal and long revenge he had exerted against the murderer and his clan. Really, it was grief and pain that made him go on and not fall unconscious on the spot. And now he was in this huge house filled with so many souvenirs of its inhabitants, of Spike. A deep fog surrounded his mind; he could not thing anymore. He had given all he had to give this deadly night.

Right now, he was only going from room to room, not really knowing what he was looking for, and not even looking for anything actually. However, upon entering the master's bedroom, Angel froze for a few seconds. He had his eyes fixed on what had been left on the nightstand, near the bed. Under a light layer of dust, an old precious book and a large gold ring ornate with a big black stone had been abandoned there only a few years ago, no doubt by Spike when he had fled from the city after his sire had been sent to hell. These two things were full of so much memories, it was such a beautiful present the Fates were giving him now, in this time of grief and loss. Angel slowly walked to the nightstand and reach for them

The book, leather covered, on which golden letters were spelling a title- Dark Flowers of my Soul- and a name -William Lightfield- , had been a present to the still mortal and living William. When Angelus had first met the young poet, he had been entranced by the words that came from this young man. No one could understand that poetry, that perfect description of all that the night creature, the desperate people who were eternally damned were living every day and forever. Mortal could not see that, and therefore, had belittled this talent and made a marginal from this pure genius, laughing at him and rejecting him harshly. But Angelus had understood. He had found a smart and sensitive person and would not let him go. Then, as a gift, he had ordered William's work published and presented the young man he already knew would be his childe with the precious book. William this night had been overjoyed and had accepted to be turned, therefore becoming Angelus friend, companion, pupil and most of all, son. That book, this little bundle of paper and leather, represented the beginning of their family, something that William, become Spike, had always kept with him as a souvenir of the understanding that he had been given by his sire, the first person who had accepted him fully.

And the ring. This gold and dark sapphire represented so much for the two of them. Angel perfectly remembered this night, this ceremony. Among Vampires, the creation of a childe meant a great deal. The bond forged between the Master and his Childe was strong and eternal, almost psychical. But with the time, some childe became very disappointing, so much limited, in whatever position they were settled in, pupils, lovers, lieutenants. Penn was the perfect example of this fact. Angelus first childe had been cruel, as expected of him, but could never have pretended to become an equal to his Sire. He was to obsessed in his paranoia and psychotic madness that he could never evolve as Angelus would have wished. But William was totally different. He had learned so well, always looking for his sire's trust and admiration and always obtaining it. Always loyal, always seeking his mentor's company, acceptance and friendship. Always so caring and respectful toward his Sire. More than a childe, he had become a real son to Angelus, an equal in everything. And one day, on the first anniversary of William's turning, Angelus had organised a very important ceremony in front of the whole clan and had given his Childe this ring, publicly making him his favourite childe and his heir. This little piece of jewellery was the symbol of their special bond, of William acceptance of his filial link to his Sire. And he had kept it til the moment he had thought Angel was dead, killed by the slayer and sent to hell.

This discovery brought back sweet memories of time past along with the reassurance that his childe had not rejected him at all, just as the last look in the eyes of Spike had been telling him earlier that night. And finaly, Angel found the strength to let go and let the tears flow. As the first hours of the morning passed, Angel laid on the bed where his William had slept so many times before and cried himself to sleep, finally allowing himself to take the rest his body, his mind and his heart needed.

It was very late this day when Angel finaly woke up, still holding in his hand the poetry book and the ring. The sun was nearly down in the sky, which meant that he did not have to stay a lot more longer in this hated town. That was quite reconforting to Angel. In no more than two hours, he would be back to his new home, with his friends and partners, Cordelia and Wesley. Not that he wanted really any company right now. But if ever he needed it, he knew that they would certainly listen to him, if not understand everything that was in his heart. And then, he would return into normal things, his duties, and maybe try to forget, let the pain and the grief fly away little by little.

By the time Angel arrived at Los Angeles, he had hoped that his partners, Cordelia and Wesley, would have been gone for a few hours. He had wished to be alone for a little bit longer, to think, to brood, as Cordelia would have not so delicately called it. He knew that, as he had chosen to stay alive, he would have to get back to his duties, as if nothing had happened. And for that, he had the firm impression that a river of questions on the first night wouldn't really help him keeping his head out of the dark waters of sorrows. He was not even sure if he would ever tell them what had happened during the past night. He did not trust himself not to cry in front of them if he had to describe his Childe's death. They would not understand. Why would they ? He had never been very talkative and had particularly kept this part of his unlife and his heart to himself.

But by reaching the door to the bureau and the living area of his place, Angel knew that he was not alone in the building, as he heard two strong sets of heartbeats and breathing from the next room. No one was talking, but faint noises of papers and books told Angel that his human partners were there and, contrary to what he had hoped, not asleep. He would have to see them and talk to them sooner than he had thought, then. Taking obliviously a deep breath that he did not need, he came to the door and opened it, entering the deemly lit room silently.

Not two seconds passed before Cordelia looked up from her computer screen and saw Angel in the office. She wuiwkly reached for Wesley, to inform him that the souled vampire they were waiting for had finally come back. A big smile enlifghtened her face, as well as a flash of anger shown in her eyes. Angel's return had been due the previous night. And when the next morning, no more than 16 hours before, Cordelia and Wesley had arrived at the office and looked for Angel in the whole building and not finding him, they hed frozen in frigh. Hell, they had been both worried the whole day, not knowing what had happened, or even if Angel was okay or not.

"Oh! Angel! You are back ! You are well, aren't you ? No injuries ?" she exclaimed, throwing herself in his arms, but only remaining in this position for a few seconds, before her relief at seeing that her boss was well gave way to her anger. "You are late, you know ? How come you did not even think to call us, or anything to tell us ? Two minutes on the phone are too much for you, maybe ?" she began complaining in her non diplomatic tone that was indeed her normal tone, before Wesley interrupted the flow of her sarcasm.

"Cordelia ! Please, let Angel alone for a few minutes before killing him with your questions. He just came back from a long fight, I believe." Wesley said calmly and in a placatory attempt to keep a leash on Cordelia's natural instinct. But with little result indeed. Thirty seconds had not passed before the worst thing that could have been said came out of the cheerleader's mouth.

"I bet you stayed to lurk around your precious Buffy, your greatest love, the perfect little girl, hmph." She had no time to go on like that any longer. Angel went sudenly in game face and his eyes shown the purest rage and hate that Wesley had ever seen in his whole life. Something was definitly wrong with Angel and his travel to Sunnydale. Something had certainly happened but, if he could trust what his eyes told him, he certainly could not expect a direct explanation from the souled vampire right now. The only thing to do was most certainly to shout something along the line of "SHUT UP, CORDELIA !", which was rewarded with an angered expression coming up on the young ladie's face and a bit of calm back on Angel's features. "Don't you see that Angel is tired and does not need to be bothered right now" he continued in a much more lenient and soft tone, a little shaken by the force and the rudeness of his previous demand. He would talk to her after that, anyway. She would understand. She would have to. After all, she knew first hand not to anger a vampire, even a souled one, when he was tired and seemingly on the edge, for some reason.

This short time was enough for Angel to politely but firmly excuse himself, after sending a greatful but sad glance to the ex-watcher, and escape to his room. Really, he had nothing against his charges here in Los Angeles. The two of them were generally very helpful and understanding, even if Cordelia's talking abilities could be listed among the mortal weapons most of the hours of day and night. But right now, all he needed was to be left alone to mourn and grieve for his loss, for the son he had seen going into dust in his arms, ending all his hopes for his dear childe, the beloved baby of his family. If only he could . what, he did not even know what to wish for anymore except for the return of his dear William. But guess what, the Powers That Be were such a bitch when they wanted to be. There was no use in keeping on thinking that kind of things. But his memory did not end his continuous torture till the moment when, hours later, laying on his bed, his hurting mind lost his battle against his exhausted body and slipped in a forgetful and welcomed sleep.